


on my doorstep

by BlueGirl22



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, I just thought 'hey it was probably weird when jon showed up at georgie's' and then this was here, Missing Scene, also ft references to some personal headcanons because I Do What I Want, set just after ep 80, some platonic jongeorgie ft the inherent restorative properties of petting a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueGirl22/pseuds/BlueGirl22
Summary: Georgie wasn't expecting her disheveled ex to turn up on her doorstep at nine p.m., but she's nothing if not adaptable.
Relationships: Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 125





	on my doorstep

Georgie Barker is staring at the timer on her oven that dictates when she should take out her lasagna when she hears her door buzzer ring. Mildly surprised, she checks the clock on the kitchen wall. Who could that be at this time of night? She certainly isn’t expecting anyone. She has half a mind to pretend she’s not in when the buzzing comes a second time and she finds herself dutifully taking off her oven mitts and making her way over to the front hall.

The basic shape of a person is visible through the mottled glass panel, and taking a deep breath, she unlocks and opens it.

The person before her is nigh on unrecognizable. His hair is longer than he’d ever let it grow when Georgie knew him, his tense face is covered in odd little marks, and he’s got deep dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes but he’s bouncing on his toes like it’s all he can do to not vibrate out of his skin. Plus, it’s been years since they’ve spoken face-to-face. “J- _Jon?_ Jonathan Sims?”

He glances around behind him. “Hi Georgie, can I come in? Please?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure I guess.” She steps aside. “Nice to see you?”

He scuttles in through the door, and she locks it behind him. “Yeah, yeah, nice to see you, too.”

He looks down at his hands and turns them back and forth, likely trying to get a better look in the light of the hall. One hand seems to be clutching some rectangular plastic thing. Christ, Melanie really hadn’t been kidding when she said he looked like he’d been sleeping one out of every four nights.

“Have I got, do you see any blood on me?”

She squints at him for a second. “No.” The question sinks in. “Wait, what? Why would you have--what are you _doing_ here?”

“I, there, um, I was, there was something, at uh, I don’t think…” he dissembles into incoherent half started sentence fragments, glitching like a corrupted video. Georgie puts her hands on his shoulders and he comes to a stop.

“Hey, hey, Jon, calm down. I was about to have some dinner, sit down with me.”

He runs his free hand over his face. “Thank you.”

She leads him into the kitchen and they sit down at her little table, eating warm lasagna in relative quiet. Georgie sticks on Radio 4 at a low volume so the silence isn’t so thick and awkward. She watches him pick and nibble at his plate. “Are you not hungry?”

He glances up. “Yes, sorry. Just nerves, nothing about your cooking.”

“Okay.” She decides she’s had enough of her own plate for the moment. “I’m going to ask you some questions now. Will you answer them?”

He toys with his fork. “I won’t lie.”

Well, a start at least. “What happened?”

“It’s not that easy to answer.”

“Are you in danger, then?”

“Uhh--” he moves his mouth like he’s trying different words-- “I don’t know for certain. I think so.”

“What happened to your face?”

“Weird bugbites. Not relevant to now, though.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“Not recently.”

“Did _you_ hurt someone?”

“No.”

“Are you drinking again?”

“ _No_.”

“What’s that you’ve got?” She nods to the item still gripped tightly in his hand.

“What?” He looks down like he hadn’t noticed before. “Oh, just a tape recorder. Forgot I grabbed it on my way out.”

“Way out of where?”

“On my way out of--”

Georgie hears the kitchen door creak and she looks down to see her cat nosing his way into the room. “Mrow,” he says, jumping up on an empty chair.

Jon laughs, a bit startled by the sudden appearance. “Hello Admiral, it’s been a while.”

“Mrow,” The Admiral agrees. Jon reaches out a hand to scratch his forehead.

Georgie is about to continue, but finds herself transfixed by watching her cat enjoy himself get scratched by her scared and scarred ex. Jon’s face relaxes by degrees as The Admiral begins to purr and nuzzle his hand.

He takes a deep breath, continuing to pet the cat. “I grabbed the recorder on my way out of work. Something bad happened there, and I’m _certainly_ out of a job and I _probably_ can’t go home.”

“Something happened _at work?_ Like, that Magnus place that called me about Sarah Baldwin a few months ago?”

“Yes.”

“Will you help me narrow down what happened there at all?”

“Call it a… workplace dispute.”

Georgie snickers. “Right. And you came to me because…?”

He takes his hand back, leaving The Admiral to sniff idly at the table top. “After I ra--left, I spent a while just sitting on the floor of Pimlico station, looking through my phone for anything to help. I didn’t know what to do, everyone in my contacts was either a coworker or lived way outside the city. Weirdly enough, I opened up a web browser and got an ad for _What the Ghost?_ Then I realized that I still knew the way here. I’m sorry, I know it’s out of line for me to turn up like this, but I really didn’t have any other options.”

Georgie makes an inference. “You want to stay here for a bit?”

Jon nods with a cringing, sheepish smile. “I don’t have any money, or any of my things, really, and I wish I could say for how long, but--”

“Yeah, sure.”

He looks up at her, confused. “What, just like that?”

“Of course. You said you don’t have anywhere else, and I’ve got practically the only spare room in London. And it’s not like it’d be your first time staying here, you practically lived here for those few months before we split up.”

Tension flows out of his frame in waves. “Georgie, thank you so much, you don’t know how much it means… you are being very kind, thank you.”

“Please, I’m barely doing anything.”

“Still.”

“Alright, you’re welcome, then. Are you going to eat anymore?”

Suddenly remembering the plate, he looks down and picks up his fork. “Yes, I will.”

“Good.” She takes her own plate over to the sink. “I’m going to shower quickly, but it’s yours after I’m done. I assume you remember where the guest bedroom is? It’s a bit of a mess in there, I’ve been using it to store boxes of WTG merch--feel free to pick out anything to wear from those, by the way, unless you’re really in the mood for a throwback and want to borrow some of _my_ wardrobe--but the bed’s made up and it should do for now.”

He stares at her. “Really, Georgie. Thank you.”

She gives him a smile. “Don’t sweat. Honestly, I’m half doing this just because I want to find out the rest of your story.”

He smiles back, but there’s a weariness behind it. “I do, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> have an nice day, give a kudos/comment if you wish, hmu on tumblr @bisexual-evanhansen if you wish, all that jazz. :)


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